


Worlds Apart

by planet_plantagenet



Category: The Tempest - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hast thou forgot the foul witch Sycorax?"</p><p>My take on Ariel's backstory, set before Prospero arrived on the island/planet. Sci-fi AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worlds Apart

_"This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child_   
_And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,_   
_As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;_   
_And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate_   
_To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,_   
_Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,_   
_By help of her more potent ministers_   
_And in her most unmitigable rage,_   
_Into a cloven pine; within which rift_   
_Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain_   
_A dozen years; within which space she died_   
_And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans_   
_As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island--_   
_Save for the son that she did litter here,_   
_A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with_   
_A human shape."_

 

 

I didn’t always live in this world. There was a time, almost beyond my recollection, where I was something more than I am now. A world without stars or planets—but yet, it wasn’t a blank void either. There were people there. People like me. People who the humans call “spirits”, say we’re “magic” because we are capable of so much more than they can grasp.

We didn’t have time there. We didn’t have sound, or sight. It was all thought. Pure, intangible, indescribable. From what I can remember, it was an amazing place.

But I was always curious. I tested out my powers. I wanted to know if there was anything else beyond the perfect world I knew so well.

Then one day, I managed to break through.

This new world was so different, but so wonderful. I could see, and hear. My powers were limited, but that was okay. There was so much to discover. I learned to speak, to take different forms. I thought less and less about my siblings in the other universe.

But when I finally met an inhabitant of this second world, everything changed.

I remember when I first saw her. She was sitting on a rock, staring up at a fading light in the sky. Her bright orange hair was tangled, and her clothes were ragged and torn. Liquid oozed from incisions in her green skin, and the horns on her forehead bore scrapes and scratches.

I silently approached her. I was lighter than air; I could float above the ground and never make any noise.

How would I communicate with her? I didn’t know how to speak any language. Perhaps telepathy would work here, as it had in my world….

Hello, I whispered into her mind.

She jumped, whipped around, and saw me. Now I had full view of her other side, I noticed one of her arms was missing—replaced by a metal structure that I now know is technological. In less than a second, the robotic arm had transformed into a ray gun, and she fired a blast of energy directly at me. I started, feeling the heat of the blast as it shot through my intangible form.

Well, it didn’t look like my telepathy approach was working.

I accessed the language centers of the woman’s brain, and the information flowed into my mind. I was careful to filter out anything too personal—I didn’t want to pry into her private thoughts. But that was the moment when everything changed—where I first began to truly understand this second world. Concepts such as good and evil, love and hate, life and death, gender, power, art, language, and so much more came flooding into my brain.

“Hello,” I said again, this time aloud.

Her yellow eyes narrowed, her arm-gun still pointed at me. “Who the hell are you?!”

“I’m a being from another world,” I replied, for, at the time, that was the only way I knew how to respond to that question.

She lowered her gun slightly. “Another world?” Her voice was rough, hoarse.

“I think so. A different universe.”

“Well then,” she grunted, “do you have a name?”

“No,” I responded, “do you?”

“Sycorax.” Her eyes narrowed, and I could almost feel her scrutinizing gaze surveying my body. “Hmm. You’re airy, incorporeal. I’ll call you Ariel.”

“All right,” I said. I’d never had a name before—nothing to distinguish myself from the rest of my companions. Now I did.

-

As the days passed, I watched Sycorax. She was incredibly resourceful. Her robotic arm hid many useful tools—a gun, a blade, a lighter, etc. It was much stronger than her flesh arm. Within a week, she had chopped down some trees and made a crude shelter for herself.

“I could help you,” I offered one day.

Sycorax shook her head, a jerky, almost frenzied motion. “I don’t need your help.”

But as time passed, I noticed her work less, rest more. She was no longer so absorbed in her labor.

One day, I found Sycorax crouched on a rock by the stream near her shelter. She was staring into the water, unmoving. I floated down to hover next to her. She didn’t look up.

“You again,” was her greeting.

“I thought you might need some help.”

“Dammit, haven’t I told you already?? I don’t need help!”

“I know. But… well, it looks like you might be in need of someone to talk to. After all, I have to say I’ve been curious about why you’re here.”

“On this planet?” Sycorax let out a sharp laugh that contained no humor. “Do you even know what this planet is? What it means to Polaris and Merak?” She finally turned to me, and her bright yellow eyes made contact with mine. “This is the exile planet, Ariel! When you do something ‘against the law’, you’re taken here. They left me here.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”

She ignored me. “Oh, I tried to reason with them. Hell, I’m pregnant! Pretty damn awful place to give birth, huh? And still they wouldn’t listen. Oh, no. I’m not human; no human would ever care about me!”

“Human?” I inquired.

“Awful species. Taken over half of the galaxy.”

I nodded, trying to understand. “But… what did you do to make them so angry?”

“None of your damn business!” Sycorax shifted her position. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Obediently, I floated away. But I still kept a watchful eye on her.

-

A couple weeks later, Sycorax gave birth. She’d forbidden me from helping, but I still heard her frenzied shrieks and the crying of her child.

After days of this, I couldn’t stand just being a bystander. I had to help. I flew down to Sycorax’s shelter one morning, dreading what I would find there.

Sycorax wasn’t there. I slowly stepped inside the primitive hut. There was a crude table, and some stools, and a basket-type apparatus in which Sycorax’s baby was huddled, asleep. I let out a sigh of relief. At least her child was safe.

At that moment, Sycorax burst in. Her hair, as always, was a mess, and she was carrying an armful of some yellow fruit I’d seen growing on the planet.

“I thought I told you not to come back,” she snarled, dropping the fruit onto the table.

“I was worried about you.”

“Well, I’m doing fine.”

“From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem like it. You’ve been yelling. Your child’s been crying. You look like you haven’t gotten much sleep.”

Sycorax collapsed into one of the stools. For once, she didn’t look angry—just exhausted.

“Fine. You win. You can help me.” She suddenly looked up at me, grinning in a way that I didn’t exactly like. “Ariel. What’s the extent of your powers?”

“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully.

“Could you potentially, say, transport objects from one place to another?”

“Maybe.” I paused, then realized what Sycorax was asking. “Hang on… do you want me to transport you back to your home planet?”

“No, of course not!” Sycorax yelled. “You think I’d want to go back there, after what they did to me?? No, I want you to transport my laboratory and equipment here, from Polaris.”

“Oh.” Well, what harm could that do? If it made Sycorax happier, it was worthwhile. And besides, the technology could probably help her child.

“So, will you do it?”

“Sure,” I replied.

-

The operation took an enormous amount of mental energy. First, I let my mind wander out to Polaris, locate the laboratory, and remove it from regular space-time. It’s difficult to describe in the language of corporeal beings. Straining to keep my brain focused on this one momentous task, I reassembled the building in a clearing in the forest.

“Good, good!” I heard a delighted cry from Sycorax behind me. I could’ve turned, but doing so would require more energy than I had at the moment. I’d regenerate, of course—I always did. So I stayed, floating in that one spot, while Sycorax inspected the laboratory.

Over the next few days, Sycorax relocated herself and her son—who she had named Caliban—into the lab. The metal surfaces and sleek instruments of the building were in stark contrast to the crude shelter they’d lived in before. Sycorax seemed delighted to have her workspace back. I was happy too—I wouldn’t have to worry about her much.

“Ariel,” she called to me one day, “you forgot my dermal regenerator. Can you transport it over here?”

And I, obediently, would send the tendrils of my mind back to Polaris, and bring the tool back to the planet.

This kind of behavior went on for a while. Sycorax asked me to get many things for her—instruments, books, food, the like. The operations took more mental effort than I would readily admit to her, but I didn’t think she cared.

Could I call Sycorax my friend? I often wondered that as well. I can’t say she was particularly friendly, but she was all I had.

Caliban seemed to be growing fast. I remembered when he first started walking—Sycorax was so happy. He didn’t particularly like me, but that was okay. The idea of powerful incorporeal beings was a bit much for a toddler to handle.

Sometimes, at night, I would hear Sycorax telling Caliban stories. Most of them seemed to be about awful things the humans had done to her, and how she would one day get revenge. I would often listen in, and couldn’t help wondering if all humans were as horrible as Sycorax painted them out to be.

One day, when I was floating around the clearing in the forest, I came across a technological structure that had definitely not been there a week before. It was shaped like a tall evergreen tree, though obviously made of metal and glass rather than living material. The bottom was transparent, and I could see many wires connecting all the different pieces of the apparatus. Sycorax must have made it. I approached it cautiously—technology sometimes did weird things when it came into contact with my extradimensional physiology. Sure enough, I found that the surface repelled my fingers when I tried to touch it.

“What is it?” I asked Sycorax later that day.

“A self-sustaining forcefield,” she replied, not caring to elaborate on what that was or why she needed one.

-

A couple days later, I found Sycorax out by the forcefield machine, running lengths of wire from the base to a circuit board inside her laboratory. A series of levers had been welded onto the board as well.

“What’s that for?”

She didn’t look up, as always. “It’s an energy converter.”

“Ah.” I didn’t exactly know what that was, but I nodded and smiled. “Why do you need that?”

“To power my house. I’m running low on electricity.”

“I see. I don’t suppose I could do anything to help…?”

Sycorax looked up, grinned at me. “Actually, you could.” She gestured to a circular dais that was wired to the forcefield machine. “If you would just float over there… I want to test something out.”

I should’ve asked her why. I should’ve asked what she wanted to test. Anything but obediently hover over to the pad.

Sycorax smirked, put her hand on one of the levers, and pulled down.

I hadn’t thought I could feel true pain, but evidently it was possible. I screamed. A flash of blinding light, then unbearable heat, then the hum of electricity flowing through wires all around me. I opened my intangible eyes, and saw Sycorax grinning at me through the glass.

Somehow, she had transported me inside the forcefield.

I tried to reach out, but the field repelled me. I could feel my body and mind getting weaker. Why was my energy being drained—?

Then I heard Sycorax’s words in my head. “Energy converter.”

That’s what this machine did. It harnessed my almost limitless mental energy, and used it to power Sycorax’s laboratory.

“Sycorax!!” I tried to yell, but the glass muffled my sound. Why had she done this to me?? I thought we were friends. I thought she trusted me. Evidently I was wrong.

I can get out of here, I thought. I’ve got more power than she can ever dream of harnessing. All I have to do is overload the machine. That’s right. Blow out the machine, and the forcefield will die.

I focused my energy on that one task. The machine was heating up. I closed my eyes, ignoring the mental strain.

The smile on Sycorax’s lips faded, replaced by a worried scowl. The wires were glowing red-hot.

Just a little bit more.

The laboratory exploded.

That wasn't supposed to happen. Frantically, I tried to see past the smoke and the fire that surrounded me. Where was Sycorax? Why could I still not move? I could hear the hum of electricity.

Parts of the smoke cleared. Sycorax was lying on the ground, green blood oozing out of a wound in her head. Her skin was red with scorch marks.

What have I done?

I reached into Sycorax’s mind with the fading remains of my energy. To my horror, I found a blank void.

I pounded against the glass, crying silently into the glass chamber. I’d overloaded the machine, yes, but not the right machine. The forcefield was still active. I could still feel my power draining away.

Sycorax couldn’t help me.

She was dead.

Because of me.

I felt the last of my energy slip away, and my reality faded into oblivion.


End file.
